Christmas in the Freljord
by Zothar
Summary: As Christmas approaches, a few champions chose to spend it together. Sequel to Nothing But Blood.
1. Christmas in the Freljord

The snow settled over Freljord like a blanket, encasing the land in a blue-white tint. Dark green pine trees contrasted with the winter frosting and gray stones surrounding them as a peaceful quiet rested over the mountains.

Ashe breathed in deeply, smiling as the early morning chill tingled in her lungs. She stood on her balcony, overlooking the rest of the castle and the village beyond, and then further to the mountains in the distance. Mornings were a favorite for her; a peaceful, quiet haven before the chaos that was the League of Legends ensued. Whether there were battles or politics, physical confrontations or intellectual ones, the days would be full of challenges. So the early mornings, before even most of the servants were up, proved a sanctuary to give her strength before the trials began.

A soft scuffing came from behind her, and she smiled slightly as she felt her husband's arm around her waist. Tryndamere, she had found, was also an early riser, and much for the same reason. The silence allowed him to clear his head, especially after nightmares. Nightmares which, as Ashe had realized after they began sleeping closer together, occurred nearly every night, causing her husband to wake in a cold sweat or a soft, strangled cry. Though they had frightened her a bit at first, she had taken to comforting him as best she could, holding him during the moments just after waking when he wasn't sure what was true and what was imagination. And, in time, the nightmares began coming less often.

"Good morning, my queen," Tryndamere said softly, his voice the gravelly deep of having just woken. His straight black hair fell across his shoulders, back and chest, reaching nearly to his waist, and his short-trimmed beard tickled slightly against the back of her neck.

"Good morning, husband," she responded, resting her head back against his shoulder. "Isn't it a bit cold for such little clothing?"

Her husband chuckled, the sound reverberating through her chest. "I fight upon the fields of justice wearing little more, aside from my helmet and metal armor. I can assure you, they do not lend well to warmth. Though if you feel uncomfortable, you could always join me in my state of dress…"

Ashe interrupted him with a half-hearted elbow to his stomach, causing him to chuckle once more. They stood in comfortable silence as the sun rose low in the sky, painting a picture of brilliant orange, yellow, and blue across the horizon.

It had been nine months since the attempt on Tryndamere's life and the ensuing pseudo-scandal in Valoran. While no public action was taken, Garen had taken it upon himself to apologize to both Ashe and Tryndamere privately. He claimed to have followed orders, and that he had never believed such an attempt would come so close to succeeding. Ashe believed him, though relations between Freljord and Demacia remained frigid.

That, however, was a line of thought for another day. As her husband gently kissed her on the back of the head, she grabbed his hand and smiled at his words: "Merry Christmas Eve."

"Isn't it not the eve until the night before?" she asked playfully.

Trydamere shrugged. "Close enough. I'm sure it's nighttime somewhere, anyhow. Regardless, it is Christmas tomorrow," he finished, and Ashe could hear a grin creeping into his voice.

Christmas was a favorite holiday throughout Valoran. League matches were suspended for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and champions joined together all over to celebrate in parties and festivals of their own. During the weeks surrounding the holiday, many champions dressed in lively costumes, and among the Yordles spontaneous snowball fights were common (though everyone vehemently refused to play with Ziggs; he was never quite sure why).

Ashe's hand ran along Tryndamere's. "Yes, it is," she agreed, tilting her head far enough back to glimpse his eyes and grin slightly. "Will you be celebrating with your people again?" she asked, keeping her voice steady. While it was true that their relationship had finally blossomed into something deeper, and both their people had grown closer after the barbarian's valiant stand during the assassination attempt, there was still much work to be done before both cultures would be able to coexist completely. So although Ashe did wish greatly to spend the celebrations with her husband, she respected and understood his desire to celebrate with his people. That is, until his next words.

"The first part of it, yes. It is good to uphold tradition after all. However, I plan on doing something different as the evening goes on." At Ashe's inquisitive look, he grinned. "You can only win so many drinking contests before the traditional Christmas celebrations begin to become predictable. And my men will understand."

"I see," replied Ashe, nodding in understanding. "So what will you do instead?"

"Fizz has invited me to a smaller celebration, including himself and a few other champions. Well," Tryndamere added wryly, "invited isn't the most correct word; considering he is planning on holding it here in the palace. Though it certainly wasn't an ask for permission either."

Ashe's soft laugh floated through the air at her husband's comment. "Yes, he can be quite the persuasive one at times."

"Hmph," grunted Tryndamere, rolling his eyes. "Regardless, it will be a smaller celebration, with people I am closer to. And I was hoping that you would like to join us, my queen.

Ashe turned in surprise, a smile tugging at her lips. "I would be honored to, my husband."

"Good, then it is settled," Tryndamere finished with a smile. "We shall attend Fizz's spontaneous party tomorrow. Now, on an unrelated matter, I do have one request."

"And that would be?"

"That we decorate our own tree this year."

Ashe tilted her head slightly. "The servants decorate a most beautiful tree every year; they enjoy the task, and ask each year to do it again."

"And I would never take that privilege away," confirmed Tryndamere, raising his hands slightly as he smiled. "However, I would also like to decorate our own tree, in the clearing behind the east courtyard."

Ashe laughed lightly at her husband's antics. "Very well; show me where this personal tree is to be."

In a few minutes, they were walking out of the east courtyard. Standing in the middle of the clearing was planted a tall pine, reaching about 15 feet in height. Ashe shot an amused look at her husband. "Would this newly-moved tree be of your doing?"

"Yup!" a voice rang out. Fizz popped up over the top of the tree, landing on its tip with precision before flipping on his trident before Ashe. "His idea and everything. I just helped him move it."

"You?" Ashe asked, skepticism bare in her voice.

"Weeeeell, not just me," he said, rolling his eyes a bit, before leaning in close. "I had to get Sion to help me, but don't tell Tryndamere."

"I heard that, you runt."

Fizz turned and stuck his tongue out at Tryndamere. "No you didn't."

The large man swiped at the fish, but Fizz lazily ducked under it and flipped out of reach. "Well, I'm gonna get out of here. Draven wants to play dodgeball with me an' Sivir. 'Cept I don't think we can find any actual dodgeballs, so it could get interesting. Have fun!" he shouted as he raced off, ignoring the royal couple's incredulous expressions.

"Does he have no fear?" Tryndamere asked, shaking his head.

"The answer seems plain," Ashe stated, chuckling slightly. "So, shall we begin? I assume you have decorations."

"That I do," Tryndamere said, nodding to the side where several large crates sat. "If we start now, we may be finished in time for supper…"

His thought was interrupted as a snowball connected with his forehead. Slightly stunned, he stared at Ashe. She smiled.

"Are you quite alright, dear? You seem to be a bit cold."

"You do realize what you just did, right?" asked her husband, his tone serious.

Ashe's smile faltered a bit. "I do not."

"You committed an act of war," Tryndamere replied, a smile creeping on to his face as he immediately reached down to grab a handful of snow. Ashe turned to run behind the tree for shelter, but not before a very large snowball connected with the back of her head.

"Ah!" she half shrieked, half laughed as she prepared herself another projectile. Their laughter soon filled the meadow, rising above the treetops and cutting through the peace of the morning.

It was well after dinner before the tree was finished.


	2. Christmas in Noxus

Night was on the way, the sun reaching its long fingers across the park in a final grasp for light. Only one cloud remained, dropping the occasional flake to the ground below. The wind blew a few stray snowflakes off their course and into the already damp long red hair. Katarina ignored the distraction, not moving from before the statue. It was a marvelous piece, depicting the details of the late General's face and armor spectacularly. Despite Swain's best efforts, it was erected in the middle of the park, at the heart of Noxus. A fitting place to remember the man who had served as the country's moral compass for so many years.

Katarina didn't believe her father was dead. She refused to believe that even Swain could have killed the Blade Master of Noxus so easily. But unlike Talon, she did not constantly search for him. For whatever reason, he has chosen to stay in hiding. That is explanation enough for her. The responsibilities and trials of life continued regardless, and so she would move on.

It would be easier if it didn't hurt so damn much.

The faintest whisper of snow caught her ear. "You're losing your touch, Talon," she said softly, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"I have always hated the snow," his voice responded. A cloak was draped over her shoulders, and she raised an eyebrow at its distinctive weight and clank of metal near the ends. Talon shrugged. "My obligation to protect you goes beyond the battle field."

"Yes. Obligation," she said quietly, turning to face the statue once more. Talon joined her by her side, silent.

"He would be ashamed of me," she said finally. "I vowed never to let my emotions cloud my judgement again. I broke my vow."

"You were tricked," Talon said.

"Had I not been blinded by my infatuation," she spat the word, "I would have seen what a terrible idea that plan was. I very nearly caused the destruction of Noxus."

"Noxus would not fall so easily."

"No, but another all-out war, against Bilgewater, Freljord, Demacia, and Ionia would have taken a terrible toll on her people. One I'm not sure we could have recovered from." She paused, breathing, trying to regain her composure.

"But you didn't," said Talon softly.

"Only because of your quick thinking."

"No, Katarina. My actions spared you. Your sacrifice is what spared Noxus. You were willing to give your life to right your wrong. Marcus would be proud of that."

Katarina turned to face the man who had become her closest companion. As usual, his face gave nothing away; but his eyes revealed more than words ever could. Slowly, like a child to their older sibling, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead on his chest. Talon returned the soft hug, patting her back softly.

"I miss him so much," she breathed.

"I know."

"You're gonna find him, right?"

Talon pulled away, a hand on Katarina's shoulder as the other gently lifted her chin. "I promise, Kat. I will find your father."

Katarina smiled faintly. "I know."

Talon pulled her into a hug again, avoiding, out of habit, her almost completely healed arm. They stayed there a long moment, looking at the statue as the sunset set the clouds on fire in the sky.

"Even in a place such as this, we can find some beauty," Talon muttered, looking at the bright orange, red, and purple clouds.

Katarina rested her head on his shoulder. "Poetic." Talon only grunted in response, and she chuckled slightly. Slowly, they both began the walk back towards the castle. No tears were shed; it was not the Noxian way.

As they walked through the doors into the living room, Katarina sat down on the couch. Talon walked to the kitchen, getting some of the hot tea he knew Katarina would like.

"If you wish, I could set up the shuriken target shaped like Garen again…" he trailed off as he returned, watching the sleeping girl's already rhythmic breathing. "Perhaps tomorrow," he said softly, setting the tea down. He gingerly lifted Kat, resting her head against his chest as he carried her into her room. Placing her on the soft bed, he pulled the warm blankets over her. Then he pulled a small, brightly wrapped box, setting it on her nightstand. Leaning down, he kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Kat."


End file.
